


To Grouch or not to Grouch, that is the Grumble.... Pass the Maple Mead, willya?

by RGmolpus



Series: Innocent Bystanders [8]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen, Grumpy Old Men, Old Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RGmolpus/pseuds/RGmolpus
Summary: Piotr goes to chew on Ezar; Padma comes to talk with Aral.
Series: Innocent Bystanders [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1305179
Comments: 43
Kudos: 37





	1. The sound of distant lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piotr decides to be furious. Aral gets sober. Padma has good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU of what -might- have happened between Aral, Ezar, Piotr and Padma in the weeks before Cordelia's arrival. 
> 
> There were loose threads that need to be addressed; I'm making this as Canon compliant as I can.

Piotr looked out the window of his study at Vorkosigan Surleau. He didn't see the vista; the argument in his mind had his attention.

Aral had returned from Escobar a wreck. The retreat had taken four days; 150 hours of unceasing work to gather all the remaining ships to Sergyar orbit.

Then another two weeks to manage the tangled mess of the retreat; reviewing the condition of the POW camp, shooting and trying the officers who'd forgotten their duties. Overseeing the creation of a larger hospital; watching as hundreds of wounded arrived for treatment - or burial.

Sending emissaries to Beta Colony to start the cease-fire negotiations; to start trying to get the survivors back, such as they might be. 

Not strangling or shooting a dozen Political Officers... That, Piotr knew, was very hard. Satisfying, for a few moments, but it never lasted.

Then, back home. Standing still on the reviewing platform as hundreds marched past, saluting the missing, the dead.

He didn't break the jaw of the War Minister... Piotr would have.

Then, Aral came home. He went directly to his room, took a shower, mainlined a bottle of the best red in the cellar, then face down on his bedroom floor, stark naked.

Zai and half his Armsmen had a fight to get him into his bed. Aral had slept for two days, then crawled out of bed, hung his head over the lip of the tub, and voided his guts.

Another hard job for Zai and his men.

Now, Aral had a cycle. He'd go to Hassadar one day, to do some business for the District; then back to the gazebo with half a crate of brandy, then a day sick and useless. A day resting, then off to Hassadar.

Sometime in that cycle he'd eat ... when someone reminded him.

The smoke had cleared in Vorbarr Sultana; the Ministry of Political Education had been torched. Piotr knew most of the upper Ministers had been murdered by controlled mob violence, all arranged by Negri. The War party had collapsed; Serg's friends had (if wise) fled to their districts. The stupid ones were being buried. Negri was on top, just under Ezar's foot. Stability - not peace - had been restored.

Ezar was still dying. Not far from Death, but on a slow raft heading for that great fall.

Piotr knew Ezar had a plan; there _had_ to be a regency, had to be one. 

He was too old, far too old, to be Regent.

Justin Halas was too old as well, tho a joint Regency with him might work... might.

Aral was the best choice; but he's in no fit shape, or mind, to walk if Ezar asked him to. He'd stay constipated rather than do what Ezar wants.

But _WHY_? Aral's plan for the retreat had been flawless - as good as could be planned. The War Party - mainly Prince Serg and that pilondial cyst Ges Vorrutyer, hadn't wanted the single best space combat strategist to help plan the Escobar Campaign, but they couldn't refuse Ezar's requirement that any possible retreat be planned as deeply as their victory plans. Serg and Ges has laughed at Aral's effective demotion to trailing fool, not looking at the plans that Aral churned out.

There was a warehouse full of moldy boots and rotting avocados in this, it smelled so much.

Start at the top and work down - when the stench is greatest, you've found your target.

"Zai; we're going to town. Full dress for everyone."

=======================

"Land at the Residence, Appledore; tell the Air Controllers it's Count Vorkosigan and I'm pulling rank. We're walking straight in, use your elbows and shoulders, boys; kick the doors down and stomp on the carpets," was Piotrs' general announcement to his Armsmen. He had all but two with him, leaving Bothari and Esterhazy at the Lake to keep Aral company. He had authorization to enter any imperial building at any time - a remnant of his near-Auditorial authoritiy - and what better way to start chewing out the Emperor than to kick in the doors to his bedchamber? 

The Pilot grinned at the instructions, the younger three Armsmen smiled at Piotr's comment, the older, wiser, more bloodied Armsmen exchanged glances and felt their holsters.

At the main entrance to the Residence, the Impsec guards braced at attention when Piotr and his Armsmen arrived. The lieutenant stuttered in asking for Piotr's ID; Piotr showed it, then kept walking. The Lieutenant started to shout 'Halt', when his sergeant grabbed his arm - "That's General Count Vorkosigan, he's got a blanket permission to go anywhere, sir - best not get in his way."

The huge doors swung open, Piotr didn't slow his stride.


	2. The Storm is announced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piotr v. Ezar, round one.

"Ezar, you sack of goat turds, what the hell did you do to my boy?"

Piotr didn't care if the Residence heard him - better that they did.

Ezar looked up from the paperwork on the desk, grimaced, and remarked to the Minister he'd been conferring with "Theo, We'll take this up later. Have your people dig deeper into Thurber River project, the numbers seem a bit - proud."

"Sire." The minister gathered his portfolio, and slid past Piotr and his men, shutting the door as he left.

Ezar rotated his lift chair to face Piotr. "Well, it took you longer than I expected to come and chew on me about Aral. Come, sit down. Zai has a bottle of the hard stuff with him, I expect; let's get it open and start drinking to my failing liver." Ezar wasn't fazed in the slightest at Piotr's entrance, or Piotr's stare, hotter than a plasma arc beam.

Time passed for an eon or two, as the two of them locked eyes. Eyebrows wiggled, in a strange semaphore; until Piotr gestured to Zai to move.

Zai extracted a flask from his pocket, placing it on the edge of the desk. Nodding to Ezar, he silently led the Armsmen out of the room. Ezar gestured to the staff still in his chambers; they left following Piotr's Armsmen.

Ezar leaned back in his float chair. "Now that that's over, grab a chair; there are glasses over on the night stand. I'll take three fingers of that rotgut, if you please."

With a dour expression, Piotr did as Ezar asked. Breaking the wax seal on the bottle, he poured slugs of the amber fluid into boringly anonymous glass cups, nearly slamming one on the desk close to Ezar's hand. "So what did you and that creep Negri hammer my boy into doing, you lout. May you choke on this, you ingrate."

"Now, Piotr, stop being an ass. Now that Serg and Ges are gone, I expected some congratulations from you for improving life in Sultana... Old Sanguinaire would have been toasting the sky when word of Ges's death hit the news." Ezar took a sip. "Yea, Ghods, what piss bucket did you drain to make this batch of maple mead, a horse with dead kidneys?"

"No, you open sore, this is from Halas's side of the mountains; did you think I'd waste the good stuff on you, right now?"

"Aww, cut it off, Piotr; step bitching and say what's on your mind. You want to know what I had happen at Escobar, right? Well, you old ingrate, ask away. Now that it's over, even you should see what I choreographed." Ezar's was almost laughing at Piotr's outrage.

"So, you arranged the entire debacle; that I could see. Damn'd expensive, the way you assassinated Serg; I can't see that you planned the death of that carbuncle Vorutyer; at least not how he really died. Took me some work, but I got the full story from that batman of his, Bothari. Aral insisted I take him on, as Armsman, as a special favor - and to keep him safe from himself. You'd planned for him to go out in flames and glory when the flagship got blasted, right?"

"Oh, yes, that was easy to plan - especially when Negri's little demons got word to me of the new plasma reflectors. The hard thing was talking your boy into his role in the play - that was the hard part."

Another sip by Ezar. "Gha... let's see you slug down this stuff, you fraud, or bring out your own bottle; I know you brought some from your own shed. C'mon , get it out."

Piotr returns Ezar's gaze with his own: "Not until we've talked. You've turned Aral inside out with your plots, spun him inside out so far I'm not certain he'll recover. My doc has already started a new set of insides for him, in case he blows his liver or stomach or kidneys out. What I want to know is whyinthehell did you do it? Serg's dead, and Gregor won't be ready to sit on the stool for decades. How the hell are you getting someone to run this place, once you're dead?"

"Piotr, What I did to Aral is I had him make a plan to guarantee that Serg and his cronies, and Grishnov and the War party, would all get whacked when the Escobar invasion turned into a fiasco of astounding size. Aral wrote the script, on my urging, and the three of us stage-managed Serg - my son, remember - and Grishnov, and the other slime inside the War Party straight off a big cliff. There, I've said it. Aral organized me assassinating my own son. It only took killing twelve thousand, eight hundred, forty five loyal soldiers, fifty five capital ships, and thirty years of diplomacy to do it." Ezar tried to pound his fist on the desk, but couldn't create much past a wet 'plop'.

"You know that Serg and Ges and the rest of his chums would have been a repeat of Yuri - but younger, stronger, and worse for everybody. They'd have rolled over the Council like a bulldozer; with Grishnov urging them on until he could have 'Saved' everyone by killing them off and becoming the new emperor. I had to wipe them all out - root, stalk, stem, leaf and branch - and try to create a new political balance until Gregor, if he survives, comes of age."

"I killed my son, Piotr, my -SON-! So don't gripe at me about Aral. Now, get out the good stuff, and pour me four fingers." Ezar tossed the contents of the glass out onto the carpet; a motion at the limit of his strength.

Piotr looked at Ezar, then pulled a brown bottle out of the tails of his coat. He broke the seal, and poured Ezar's glass full, along with his own. "So, who're you planning to be the regent. I'm too old, Vorhalas won't take it, Vorpatril can't, and Vordarian will get axed in a week. Aral's out, so who?"

Ezar took a draft from the glass. "Ahhh, that's the real stuff... to hell with my chiurgeons!" He drained the glass, and shoved it across for a refill. "If Aral isn't possible, then the natural choice is Padma Vorpatril. Falco will back him, as will Vorhalas. You'll step in, as will Vorinnis. He's married, so Kareen will be safe; and he can be a father figure to Gregor. He's politically nothing; looks good in a uniforms, and will do what you, Vorhalas, and Vorpatril will tell him. 

He might even show some of his Granddad's savvy, and, with training, turn into a decent Regent. That sound reasonable?"

"So you've got a plan if Aral tells you to fuck off - but what did you really do to Aral? He's worse than after Komarr - if that's possible?"

Ezar sighed; "Piotr, Aral, Negri, and I planned the intentional destruction of the Escobar expedition. Negri's little devils learned about that new Beta device, the plasma reflector; and with that on their side, it was impossible for us to win. Serg and Ges wanted a massive victory; so they could depose me; I turned everything around to shove them off a cliff. Aral's upset I sent those other men off the cliff with Serg and Ges and all. He wanted me to have his ship blow up early, so he could run the retreat; I wouldn't let him. I needed a pile of bodies to hide behind when Negri sent his men in to wipe out the Ministry of Political Education - and the rest of the War party. Now, with the right Regent, I can leave Barrayar in safe hands, and do what Dorca wanted, a century ago - Barrayar proud and respected in the Nexus. Hit me again."

Piotr slouched in the chair, a worried frown on his face. He uncapped the bottle, pouring Ezar a refill. "I could see you needing to kill off the war party - those dam'nd fools. And offing Grishnov and his toadies; but sending them into a trap? That was cold, even for you, you bloodless monster."

"Like you at Carter's Ridge? When you lost half your men luring the Ceta's into leaving Val Bartonton? Or when you ordered placing that picket line of Ceta heads around Philo Base? You know being a cold bastard is how you win, sometimes. They wanted a war; I gave them one - and it was everything they wanted, except for a victory parade. I'm a bastard, you're a bastard, Negri's a bastard; we are all bastards. So shut up and drink."


	3. Everyone forgets Padma.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aral unloads.

The comband on Esterhazy's wrist beeped for attention. 

"This is ATC Surleau for the Estate. We've got an inbound for you, ETA ten minutes, from VBS. Squawking Vorpatril 4; do you want us to divert?"

Esterhazy thought for a moment, "Estate to Surleau ATC, arrival approved; thanks. Estate out."

His next call was to Bothari, "We've got an incoming flyer, meet me at the pad. I think it Padma Vorpatril, Arals' cousin. See you in seven." The reply was a curt "On my way."

The two of them were on station at the landing pad; Bothari had turned on the guidance lamps, and was ready to wave the craft down. Esterhazy was at the side, with a step-stool in hand. The flyer, a sporty model in red enamel with yellow trim, very much the current style, settled down exactly on the centerline of the pad. No bounce, a textbook perfect landing. The pilot waved at the two Armsmen as he shut down the AG pads and engine, safeing the craft. He popped the canopy, and extended the little ladder, energetically hopping down before Esterhazy could place the step.

As he stripped the pilots headset off, he asked Esterhazy; "Is Aral around, or should I ask, is he still sober? I've got some good news for him, something he'll love. Oh, hello, Esterhazy, is the General in? I've got news for him, too."

"I'm sorry, Captain Lord Vorpatril, but the Count is away. Your cousin, Lord Vorkosigan, is at the gazebo, but I can't say what his condition is. " Esterhazy winced a fraction. "He may not be very amenable to visitors at the moment, I must report. May I take your things?" Extending his hand for the headset.

"Oh, thanks. I don't have a bag with me, just plan to pop in then off and away. Any chance you could work up some lunch for me? I left Sultana in a blazing rush, after I saw Falco. Spreading the good news, you see."

Bothari moved closer, placing chocks around the flyers wheels. His face was its usual stiff mask, "Good news, sir?"

"Ah, hello Bothari, isn't it? The new man? Yes, very good news. My wife - she's got one in the oven. A boy, we hope. Could you fellows bring a bottle of bubbly up, when you bring lunch? This calls for a bit of the good stuff, say what? Up at the Gazebo, you said? Bit of a lope, off I go!"

Lord Vorpatril headed up the hillside to the top of the ridge; Esterhazy looked at Bothari. "I'll go to the kitchen, you meet me up top; this may be something to pull Aral out of his funk -"

"For today - maybe." Bothari looked both less glum, and more glum, at the same time.

====================

Padma had heard in the servant's hall about Aral's drunken funk, but he was shocked at his cousin's appearance. Aral usually was the constant well-appointed officer; uniform neat, chin clean, shoes shined. Now, here, he saw someone usually found in a side alley in the Caravanseri, in a pool of spilled wine. Aral looked - gone. Adrift; lost. It was more than being drunk; it was an intentional escape from the discipline he'd lived in since - forever. 

He was snoring.

Legs bare, hairy as ever; shorts, a sandal on one foot, the other on the floor. If he had a paunch, it'd be showing in the gap between the hem of his shirt and the belt loops of this shorts; Aral was too fit - for the moment - to have a paunch; but Padma had a certain feeling that Aral was aiming to have a serious one soon.

The shirt was an outrageous floral pattern; Padma knew it was a relic of his first Captaincy - a gift from Rulf Vorhalas and the other command staff after the first cruise together. Padma, just a lieutenant, had been favored to attend that private affair; as Aral's cousin; It was, to Aral, almost a sacred relic of the best years of his life.

Seeing him now, desecrating it, was - wrong.

"What ho, cousin! Are you hitting, or smashing the bottle today?" He swatted the bottom of Aral's foot.

Aral jerked awake. "Ah - what - Padma? What'n hell are you doing here? Pull up a chair." Aral struggled to sit upright in the lounge chair. 

Padma grinned, he rarely surprised his cousin, a small point scored in their contest. He grabbed one of the wrought iron chairs scattered in the gazebo, placing it next to Aral's lounge chair.

"Came to tell you the good news; Alys has one in the oven. I think this puts me ahead - slightly - in the race for the camp stool, won't it?"

"That's a race I don't want to win - and neither do you, little brother. But, congratulations! I'd offer you a drink; but," Aral grabbed the brandy bottle next to this chair; "this stuff isn't worth anything but getting plastered. Let me call Esterhazy to bring a decent bottle."

"No need, Little Mouse; I asked your men to bring something up when I arrived; they should be here shortly. I want a moment alone with you, needs be. If you're going to be an alcoholic bum, then that means Ezar'll tap me to be figurehead regent; backed by your father, Vorhalas, Granduncle, and a few other old fossils. Alys and I will be Gregor's foster parents; until he's twenty. You know that's Ezar's only option - he needs a descendant of Dorca as regent, and it's either you or me."

"Well, good luck at it, " Aral replied; "I'm done with Ezar and the rest of that stinking mess. I told that carcass I was out, gone, finished; and I'm not coming back." Aral's face was almost a snarl as he had his say. Padma knew he was bluffing; politics was at the core of Aral's life.

"Oh, come off it, mouse - you can bluff Ezar, your father, or every Count around, but I -Know - You." Padma poked his finger at Aral to emphasis his words. "You know you want to ride the elephant, and pull its ears. I don't know what Ezar and you planned all those weeks you and he were closeted in the Residence; but I'm betting you having a perfect retreat plan was part of it. You're not pissed at Ezar, you're pissed you were the one who pushed the whole rotten mess off a cliff and then had to sweep up the wreckage."

Aral leaned back on the chair, his face defiant. "Doesn't matter what you think, Padma, I'm not doing anything Ezar wants me to do. He's used me up, squeezed me dry. You can think what you want; but you're not convincing me to do a damn'd thing for that man." Aral groped for the brandy bottle; Padma grabbed it first, sniffing the neck. "Ye, ghods! Aral; is this paint thinner, or what? I could clean plasma arc igniters with this, I swear! Where're those two Armsmen, they should be here by now." Padma rose to look over the rose bushes that surrounded the gazebo.


	4. Achilles, in his tent; enter Priam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aral eats some real food.

Padma could see the two Armsmen carrying a serving cart down a small flight of steps. At the top of the steps was a hamper and several ewers. Once the cart was on the path, one Armsman - Esterhazy, Padma thought - went back to the extra items. Soon, Bothari was guiding the cart into the gazebo

Esterhazy and Bothari quickly placed everything on the semi-circular table in the shelter; Esterhazy covered it with a white table cloth. Several covered dishes were laid out; a loaf of bread under a clear dome, and several cups, saucers, and a pile of napkins. One of the last things was a wine cooler, with a bottle of champagne; Esterhazy asked if they'd like it opened; Padma said no.

Padma handed the bottle of brandy to Bothari; "Here, find a weed that needs killing, give it this. Some tangleweed or goatbane, maybe. It's not made for drinking; weedkiller, maybe." Bothari raised an eyebrow toward Esterhazy; He replied with a shrug. "Thank you, Lord Vorpatril. If you have any other requests?" 

"No, I'll call if we do." 

Esterhazy gathered Bothari up with a shrug, they headed downslope toward the landing pad.

Padma ladled a cup of chicken noodle soup for Aral, delivering it to him with a minor glare; "Dammit, Aral, get something in you that isn't alcohol or simple sugar. Stop trying to kill yourself with rotgut; Piotr will have the docs grow you a new liver, and then you'll be back at square one. I'll make you a sandwich." Aral looked at Padma sullenly, taking the soup without enthusiasm. 

"Stop being a nanny, Padma. If I want to act like a town clown, I've earned that. Why do you care?" Aral finally took a sip, flinching from the touch of the hot soup on his tongue.

"I'm being your mother, in her blessed memory, because you're being a snotty arsehole about this whole affair. Yes, Ezar flipped you over; used and abused you, and more. You're still alive, unlike those arses Ges and Serg - and a double dozen Political officers - including that rat - Rycov - wasn't it? The one who mutinied on Sergyar, back when all this started. "

Aral interrupted; "His name was Radnov."

"Radnov, Smadrov; he was a pest. He was gung-ho for invading Escobar; and got what he deserved. All those MPE pricks got just what they deserved. It's done, over, funeral held; and it's all over - except Aral Vorkosigan sits with a case of cheap brandy and pouts in the country. Here; eat this." Padma thrust a sandwich at Aral; a thick turkey and cheese creation from the spread brought by the Armsmen. Aral finally took it, sandwich in one hand, soup in the other. 

Padma finished making his own sandwich; poured himself a glass of lemonade, and took seat in one of the chairs next to Aral's couch. "What I'm saying is nobody mourns the end of the War Party, Grishnov, or the MPE. - Well, maybe a few contractors and a dozen mothers; but Ezar did everyone a favor setting them up for a fall, and then pulling the rug out from under them. " He took a large byte out of his sandwich. "So, everybody's better off; except you, 'Cause you are in a snit because it wasn't a nice clean victory. Hell, Yes, it was a stupid mess; hell, Yes, it was a waste; but it's bought and paid for - and nobody - not nobody - is going to suggest starting another war for a century. We may have trouble from the Cetas, but that's normal. Anyway, I've got a baby on the way, and that's worth celebrating. Eat up, finish your soup, and help me finish that bottle of Champs, right?"

Aral looked at Padma with a glare as sour as unsweetened lemonade. He took a huge bite out of his sandwich, then growled. "I'm pissed at Ezar because he wasted ten thousand men, dam-nit. Forty ships, fifty thousand wounded; all because he wanted his son to have a fancy funeral. He sandbagged me into helping him - and I'm not helping him ever again. I'm done with politics. " Aral finished the soup and handed the mug to Padma; "It's been nothing but blood and pain for me since Yuri's massacre. If I could get a ship back; I'd be happy, but Ezar won't do that; he wants me to save his arse from the grave; and I won't help that arsebyte ever again."

"You want another sandwich?" asked Padma, " Or more soup?"


	5. Arriving Problems.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piotr and Ezar quietly plan.

Piotr sat quietly after Ezar's outburst. He'd wanted an admission from the Emperor that he'd known the plans for the invasion of Escobar were intended to fail; planned to destroy his political opponents. That the plan centered on the death of Serg - with all else being extra, changed his thoughts. He knew, from all the years living with him in the field, in the Ceta war, how Ezar had doted on his son, his family. His marriage to Dorca's daughter had been political; tense and hard; but Ezar had always tried to show his son care and affection. Planning to end Serg's life had torn a hole in Ezar's life. 

Piotr waved the bottle towards Ezar's cup, he waved it off. Piotr could see a trickle of tears down Ezar's face; an unusual marker of Ezar's deep feelings. He sat back in his chair, placing the bottle on the table, and waited for Ezar to recover his center.

"What was that river contract you and Minister Byron were talking about - South Continent stuff, I presume?"

"A developer wants permission to put in a reservoir, I'm insisting they understand how that'll change the area. All that extra water in the air's sure to change the weather; and the numbers they've submitted seem a bit too neat... I'm sure someone's getting a huge graft, I don't want it paid from my budget. You know the drill..." Ezar became settled as his thoughts changed from Serg to the River deal; his breathing slowed and deepened. 

"Well, you should reserve a chunk of land that'll be on the new lake for yourself; to build a summer house for Gregor. Give yourself, and him, a hidey-hole. Settling in on the Long Lake was one of the best things I ever did; allows me to keep all sorts of riff-raff away when I want privacy.

Won't matter for me; but maybe Gregor, if he can make it to his majority, would like it. Nice Idea, but I'll leave that to posterity. Anyway, If I had done that in the past, people would say that's where I bury the bodies of my opponents - a waste of time, I've always thought. Better to let them live, in penury, to warn the other idiots. Ah- pfui, What say you to the idea of Padma, your grand-nephew, as a figurehead regent; with you, Vorpatril, and Vorhalas as advisors? The three of you, with him as figurehead, should keep things running smoothly, right?"

"Padma? That slacking town Clown? The only decent thing he's ever done is managing to get married to Alys Vorinnis, who's the biggest social catch of the season. As an officer, I can't say anything bad about him, but enthusiastic, he isn't. He can look good in parade red and blues; be impressive handing out medals and inspecting the troops, I'll give you that. But as regent - even as a figurehead? Hell, no!"

"The Regent has to be, somehow, on the Dorca family tree, and if Aral won't take it, Padma's the only other option, unless Vordarien is your cup of cyanide." Ezar had a hard glint in his eyes. "Vordarien's been nuzzling around Kareen for months, trying to slide his way into her circle; I've discussed his deficiencies with her a few times, she's tolerated him as a protector if Serg'd become a problem. Now that he's gone, that problem's gone. As a Regent, I'll nominate a cow pat before I'll offer Vordarien's name." 

"If it's Vordarien or Padma, Padma's a better bad choice than Vordarien - that I'll give you. You really want Aral, don't you?"

"Damn right I do. One or two of the ministers might do - Quintillian, perhaps, but the Regent has to be a Vor, and on Dorca's line. I could reach down to my remote cousins, the Vorbarras', out in the gravel pits, but that's a guaranteed fail. So, what would get Aral out of his drunken haze?"

"The boy's lost all hope, all drive. I think it was losing - to him, murdering - all his contemporary friends, like Rulf Vorhalas, and Tabor Vordrodza. That Betan woman, the POW he caught on Sergyar, before all this started - he starts showing signs of life when he's talking about her. I can't see _her_ coming to find him, and he's got no chance of finding her, if she went to Beta. They'd walk him out an airlock the moment he hits customs."

"That might not be an impossibility - Negri say's there's been a scandal of some sort, apparently they tried to give her a big medal, and she kicked their prime minister in the soft ones - Can't say I approve or disapprove of that, myself - but if she's not happy on Beta, ... Well, If she can get to Komarr, she'd on a greased slope to here, in an instant. "

Piotr snorted at the description of the Prime Minister getting one hard in the short and curlies. "Isn't that Fredrick 'I didn't vote for him' Arbuthnot? From what I've heard of him, they should give her a medal for doing that - Import her to swing her foot on a selected few Counts, improve the species."

"Ha! Negri muttered something about hiring some of their mental health people, to create plans for his department. Apparently they suspect all the POWs held by us as being brainwashed spies, or something. As if we care." Ezar smiled at this bit of bureaucratic stupidity displayed by a far-off government. "It's a universal constant, Piotr, that Bureaucrats can think the most amazingly stupid things, if it's thought to be government policy. My convalescence is giving reason to flush those idiots out, when they get found.... If I'm lucky, I'll leave the leanest, most honest, cleanest government ever seen... If I can find a regent to run it - I need your boy, Piotr - at any price! Or it's Padma and your cronies as a cabal. What will it be?"


	6. Plans  - What are they good for? Nothing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezar gets to the root of Aral's funk.

Piotr sat back; Ezar's question cum demand was a trap. The problem of who would follow Ezar had it's roots in Dorca's lack of fecundity. He had been in his horse's saddle more than on his wife, Only one son, two daughters, a very thin thread to tie together a dynasty. Ezar had to create a stable structure to rule and run everything until Gregor came of age.

Make no commitments, accept no theories.

"Aral is situated, by lineage and accomplishments, to be the first choice as regent; but he's not the only person possible for the job. Gregor could take the stool, and then let the Prime Minister and a select committee run things, that's what the Ministries are for. A Cromwell or Dunadder we don't need, so bringing one of your fourth cousins could be better.... I'm past wanting to run a government, especially when I'd be a kingmaker without portfolio. "

Ezar looked sour. "You, not wanting to be a kingmaker? Oh, pull my other finger, I'm constipated. Barrayar needs a Cromwell, or a DeGaul, or MacArthur; not a Baldwin or So Singh. Aral is the best choice, damnit, you know that." He leaned back in his chair, to listen to the outrages beeps and chirps from the medical boxes built in to it.

"Aral won't piss in your direction, even if he was upwind in a gale. You hurt him, and his honor. Did you promise something he's wanted, and he didn't get it?"

Ezar looked uncomfortable. "Well, as a sideshow, perhaps. The original plan had Aral taking command after Serg died; arresting Ges on the bridge when he wouldn't order retreat. Then, once Grisnov's files were open, it would be revealed that Ges, as Captain of the troop carrier the MPE squad came from, had passed a sealed order to the MPE Captain to execute the Komarran Oligarchs. 

With that, he'd be cleared of the blame for the massacre , and Grishnov and Vorutyer would be already dead to stop them complaining. Ges being dead early - blocked that. " Ezar pursued his lips at the words, Piotr leaned back in his chair, now seeing the spoiled, corrupt bargain that Aral had made. 

Ges Vorutyer, who had been the center of Aral's life for such a count of years, had been so close, so intimate - Ges, brother of his dearest wife... Ges had never paid for the wounds he'd struck into Aral. Aral had wanted to cast Ges down, with a bolt of lightning splitting his flesh - returning to Ges all the dishonor he'd fed Aral. 

Aral had lost his honor three times to Ges, and now he had no way to rebuild it. Ges was a footnote to Escobar, not a prime villain, just another corpse buried in a distant graveyard. Ezar's plan would have cleared Aral's ledger, washing clean his honor and reputation.

Incomplete.... water spilled before the basin.

"My boy'll recover, in time. He can't stay away from Sultana eternally; tho I'm happy if he starts working in the district. In a year, he'll be back in shape; ready to boss and bull his way among the council." 

"A year's too long, He's got to be Regent from the start; having him step in late won't work." Ezar stirred in his chair. "All in - or stay out. He can't replace Padma mid-stream. Would you allow him in, to knock heads with Vorpatril? or Vorhalas - or yourself? Can't have two Vorkosigans in the cabal; too much power on one side."

Piotr grunted his agreement. "Send him to Komarr, or Beta; as an envoy or such; Let him sit off the board for a year; then he can come back. The game'll be needing a refresh, and he'll do that."

"Send him to Beta - not a good choice. The Interstellar Justice Commission will grab him in a moment, to be in the dock for all sorts of war crime foofraw. They want some Barrayaran blood; I'm working hard to keep my people out of their hands. Aral'll be the golden goose to them; slap him in chains and have a show trial - 'Justice', they'd say, 'for the Butcher of Komarr'. Feh - fools"

"Well, don't you die early, you goat; Give Aral some time; we don't know what'll happen. Maybe some gal will catch his eye, and settle his mind, then he'll be ready - eager - for a job. Can't let him sit bothering egg farmers in district, you know."

"Time is what I don't have.."


	7. So, what's this about Alys being pregnant?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padma and Aral get to the important stuff...

They sat silently eating sandwiches. Padma poured a glass of lemonade for Aral, who accepted it with limited grace. The wind from the lake kept cool air moving thru the gazebo; defeating the sun's efforts to make the day unsuitably hot... Finally, Aral spoke. "You said Alys is pregnant?? Has one in the oven?"

"Yep, One in the oven, the dynasty continues. We went to the obstetrician today; then straight to Falco's place to tell him. He was overjoyed to hear the news, we're the first in the family to have a new one on the way since he became Count. Othelia was overjoyed; she and Alys took off to places unknown to talk. I had to beg off having a glass with him, so I could fly up here to tell you. Nine months, and I'm a Da!" Padma was glistening with excitement at the pronouncement. 

"Well, congratulations. You beat me to it - but I'm glad you've done the deed. If father was here, he'd be overjoyed; half the reason he glowers at me is that I never - " Aral stops as a twinge of past pain strikes.

"With all the time you had ship duty, or were in that ice prison up north, you didn't have a chance - a real chance - back then. It's not like you can _mail_ in your side of the operation in from orbit." Padma took a final bite out of his sandwich. "And, a woman can't hand an egg off to a lab tech for them to put it in an incubator like it was a chicken, after all."

Aral looked a bit uncertain at this. "That might not be true, Cousin. One of the last things I did back on Sergyar, before I left, was to accept from the Escobarans some sort of mechanical womb. They'd gone thru all the women who'd been implanted" -Padma heard raped - " and transferred the embryos into these fancy metal cans. Cord -" Aral paused - "I was told they were new; still an oddity on Beta colony, but they could take a embryo all the way to term. I sent the lot of them to Impmed, with full permission to maintain them all the way... I should go back to Impmed to see what's happened to them. I gave my word on them, Padma."

"Huh! Those will change the game for everyone here - like those sex selection pills have done. A baby to term without a woman - I bet gene cleaning will be simple, almost automatic. When word gets out, every new bride will demand one as part of the dowery."

"Probably so; Just another thing from the galaxy to foul things up for us... I hadn't thought of them, until now. I should head into town and take a look at them - Damn! I can't walk into Impmed now, since I've resigned. Blast!"

"Well, Cousin, since I'm still in the Military, and I'm still an officer, I can just walk into Impmed and ask.... Isn't that peachy?" Padma was trying to stop an evil, point-scoring grin from covering his face. 

He was losing.

====================

Aral broke the stalemate; "OK, you win. I concede. Will you escort me to Impmed so I can look in at my charges? Pretty please? And make me another sandwich."


	8. To the end of the Earth - or this Bottle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padma and Aral go to town. Egos collide.

Padma eased the cork out of the Champagne bottle with practiced ease. He filled two flutes, passing one to Aral. "To a new boy!" was the toast offered and seconded. Aral levered up from the chaise to stand next to Padma, giving him a long hug in congratulations. 

"You surprised me when I heard you and Alys Vorinnis got engaged; it's the best news I'd had that week. Da sent it tightbeam, I got it just after I broke Komarr orbit heading out. Now, here you are, going to be a Da yourself. I'm proud, Padma, very happy."

Aral raised his flute in a salute. "I hope the best for both of you. Is Falco loaning you a house, that little apartment you've got won't be livable with a baby crib in it."

"That place is bigger than quarters on a ship," retorted Padma, "Alys and I and the baby will do fine. The trustees of the Xav estate won't peel off more marks to me until the baby is born, damnit. Once he's here we might get a larger place. A Captains' salary, without ship pay, or something, isn't grand - thank ghu that you've got your Da to sponge from, your retirement pay must be minuscule."

"I officially retired as a Commodore, so I'm getting half-pay as a Rear Admiral. Not great, but it's enough. Living here helps, but Dad takes half for room and board. Can't blame him... I buy my own booze."

"Hell, you can afford better than that paint stripper! At least buy something drinkable!"

"Yah, well... Do you think Alys will want to raid the attic at Vorkosigan house for baby things? I expect there are three or four cribs and such in storage. I doubt Piotr will mind if she borrows anything, if she and Othelia aren't ransacking Vorpatril house now. "

"I'll have to ask Alys. Young Ivan will probably get his arse washed in the same basin Yuri and Xav did. "

"Hope none of whatever stuck to them sticks to your little one!"

Both were silent thinking of the ghosts attached to some of the baby things in storage between the Vorpatril, Vorkosigan, and Vorinnis families. 

"Well, Alys will be happy to see you; but beware; I think she's got a maternal fire in her; half of what I heard between her and Othelia was who should be getting married to who - planning marriages right, left and center. "

"Planned marriage? Not for me, cousin, I had that already courtesy of Dad and Old Vorutyer. You know how that finished. " Aral shivered at the memories.

"You never had a chance for a decent marriage; the two of you had a month's engagement; with that snail hovering around; then you were off on ship duty for six months as soon as the honeymoon ended. I chased after Alys for six months, not that you could see; and we shacked up for three; but I really didn't start to know her until I woke up in bed next to her a week after the wedding. Married life isn't about the sex; it's about living with someone closer than ship duty. You never had a real chance to get to know her; between ship time, and always having the slug around. If you let yourself get caught again; well, you're ready for a wife now."

"Fat chance that'll happen. I've got to much baggage in Sultana to risk anyone saying yes to me; and I need a woman who'll kick ass hard and fast when the harpies come flocking. Maybe there's some woman on the far coast, or down south; but in VBS? Hell no."

"It'll happen, Babychick; I think it'll happen. That frill you found on Sergyar - the one who bollixed up Radnov's mutiny - from the way you described her when you got back - you should have chased her back to Beta and welded yourself to her doorstep until she said yes. I bet she's still dreaming of you and your manly physique even now."

"Ha! After what she saw of Barrayaran men, I think she'll be leading the invasion of their mental health bureau to conquer and fix us. Not gonna happen."

"Well... finish the bottle and I'll fly us back to VBS. I need to officially tell the corpse of his new grand-nephew; and visit Father-in-law Vorinnis to boot. Tomorrow, I'll get you into Impmed, to visit the baby cans; and let you kiss Alys and congratulate her. You'll have to stay at your Da's house; you know what my place is like. "

"You forgetting eight hours bottle to throttle?"

"Like you've been doing? I've got a little buzz; but it's on autoPI once we're at altitude. You'll be sober by the time we get there; so you can keep your mouth shut when we get in to see the Imperial Corpse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any idea if Aral's first wife has a name?


	9. Fun flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off to wonderland; with hangover pills.

Padma called Esterhazy on his comm; "Would you prepare my flyer for departure? Aral and I are off to Vorbarr Sultana. You might call Vorkosigan house and give them a heads up."

"Yes, Lord Vorpatril, I'll alert local ATC."

"Thank you, Armsman."

Padma looked at Aral, "You want to clean up, or change your shirt and put some decent pants on? I know you're pissed at Ezar, but he is your Liege, so have some respect."

Aral sat on the edge of the chaise; "I'm not really sure I want to see him, Padma. What I'm wearing won't change that. I tried to dig a hole between us that couldn't be crossed, when I resigned. I'm not sure he wants to see me - - I hope not."

"Quit kidding yourself, Aral m'boychick. You're as welded to him as I am. You've got a perfect reason to see him - he'd hav'ta be an idiot not to allow you to check on these baby cans. If he says no, then you know you're done with him - and he'd done with you. If he says yes, then you're in play; and have something as leverage to make a deal."

Aral sat brooding for a moment. "Yes, I can see you're right. If he says no, then it's all on him. If he says yes, then I can set limits on what I'll do for him." Aral looked up at Padma. "If I dress up, he's won half the game; looking like I crawled out of the caravanserai is better."

Padma smiled. Aral was trying to convince himself to start playing the politics game again; grabbing at empty air to dive back into the big game.

"I'm not thinking about Ezar; After this we'll be going out to dinner with Alys, and she'll have a fit if you show up looking like -that-. She'll have your hide off if you're dressed like ... well, a bum from drunk street."

"I'll go clean up, shouldn't I?"

"Yup".

Aral headed back to the big house, with an uncertain gait. Padma kept an eye on him as much as he could from the gazebo, then headed down to the landing pad. Esterhazy and Bothari were finishing moving his flyer onto the pad; Esterhazy came to meet him.

"Sir, your flyer is recharged and I cleaned several bug strikes from the canopy. ATC knows you'll be departing soon for Vorbarr Sultana; outbound altitude is angels five-one. Frequency is 485.5 MC. Are you and Lord Vorkosigan finished at the Gazebo?"

"Yes, we're finished up there. I'll be taking Aral with me to town, so if you'd call the city house he'll be there tonight, it'd be appreciated. He's getting cleaned up; we'll be dining with Lady Alys tonight, so it may be a bit before he arrives. I'll do a pre-flight and wait for him. You and Bothari can return to your normal duties." Padma looked at his crono; adding in thirty minutes until Aral would be down.

Esterhazy gestured to Bothari; waving him uphill. Bothari headed up to the gazebo; to clear the dishes. "Sir, the Count wants someone to assist Lord Vorkosigan if he departs from the estate; I'll be waiting for him to arrive. If you need my assistance with the preflight, please ask."

Padma gave a wry smile at Esterhazy's words. "Sometimes Aral needs a keeper when he goes to the bathroom. I'll keep him safe, I'll get him back to Vorkosigan house before midnight, the staff there can pour him into bed. After that he's on his own."

"Very good, Lord Vorpatril. And may I repeat the household's congratulations on Lady Alys's condition? The families are blessed with the presence of a new generation."

"Thank you, Armsman. I need to get on my pre-flight checks; Aral should be along on a few minutes."

Padma started the checks, everything was in good condition. He fiddled around a bit, cleaning the wing struts, just to waste time for Aral's arrival. Esterhazy started sweeping up the landing pad apron, Bothari was already at the gazebo collecting the luncheon remnants. Aral called out as he crested the slope, doing a half-jog down to the landing pad.

He was puffing some when he arrived; Padma noted. Aral prided himself on his athleticism, but the booze he was consuming was overwhelming his efforts to be in shape. 

"I'm here, lets go, Padma."

Padma inspected Aral. His shirt was a pleasant brown, slack innocuous black, and he'd ditched the flip flops for half boots. Not high fashion, but he'd be acceptable at any of the better restaurants in VBS; if he had a tie.

His eyes were still bloodshot, his chin was smooth, but he looked like a drunkard who'd made an effort to get clean. Aral was usually trim an neat as a habit; his current unkempt state said much about his current self-worth.

"Climb in, pre-flights done. Here we come, Vorbarr Sultana!"


	10. Flight into seeming stupidity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swear I didn't expect this to turn into a face-off between Ezar and Aral... honest!

Padma lifted off easily; Aral slumped in his seat rubbing his head. "Hangover pill haven't kicked in yet?"

"No, and I think I'm headed into a bigger head splatter every second. Why did I let you talk me into this, please?"

"Well, If you think having dinner with Alys is a big mistake, so you have to toast her being preggers, I'll turn around now - or I'll swing over the lake and you can jump. The Impsec patrol will be up and on you fast, all you'll have to do is float for a few minutes. Want that?" Padma rocked the little flyer to emphasize his offer. 

"Oh, stuff it, Padma. Having dinner with Alys isn't what I'm talking about, it's facing Ezar again. That man's a pest to me."

"Then sit in the car while I go tell him the news - not that Negri hasn't told him already. Sit and sulk, the guards can bring you a bottle of water; so you can drown your headache."

Aral just growled and sat himself in the seat, adjusting the sun visor to shade his face.

Padma smiled, another point scored.

====================

For most of the flight, Aral sat silently in his seat, he drifted into a doze, the drone of the engine hypnotizing him into sleep. Padma let the autopilot and ground control system guide the flyer for most of the journey; until Vorbarr Sultana ATC took control. He called in his ID, asking for permission to land at the Residence; ATC checked his particulars, and handed his final guidance to Impsec's guidance officer at the Residence. Very few had permission to land in the center of the city; Lord Padma Vorpatril didn't use that privilege often - but this was a special trip. Impsec ATC passed on a message to the Emperor's office that he'd like an audience; time permitting. He expected quick approval; family does matter, sometimes.

Padma landed the flyer without trouble; waved into location by a ground handler. He shutdown and safed everything according to the checklist; the groundsman chocked the wheels.

Padma looked at Aral. "You don't have to come in, but you'll regret not coming. He's got something you want, and you've got a lever on him - is he honoring your pledge? Beard him now, Cuz; do it now."

Aral stirred uncomfortably. "You face him down for me, if it's so important. " Aral had a look of sullen rebellion; " He'll twist me into agreeing to be regent; or try to. I'm not fighting that again."

"So don't listen to him on that - you don't want to be regent; so toss it back in his face. You want his support for the baby cans; and a place in the panel that oversees them. And what about when they get opened? You'll want a place on the adoption committee; don't you?"

"Awww.. Hell - Padma you're a pain in the arse, you know that? Did he send you to tempt me?"

"No; but with one on the way I've got a bigger view of life than I had before - one you'll have, someday."

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, baby boy." Was all Aral had to say as he climbed out of the flyer.

=====================

The two walked slowly to the Residence; passing the other flyers and groundcars in the lot. Aral wasn't seeing anything as he walked; Padma had to pull him away frrm several groundsters he was almost bouncing off as they randomly strolled to the entry gates. 

He stopped at one groundster - twerking his eyebrows trying to recognize what he was seeing. "Damnit - that's one of Dad's flyers - and so is that one!" Aral pointed at another large flyer; "What'n the hell - IS he here?"

Padma looked at the two flyers - they were nothing special; bare aluminium skin, no special marking to his eyes; but the registration number was telling - 'VKS 01' and 'VKS 03'

"Esterhazy didn't say your father was in Sultana; he just said he was away. Why't'hell is he here - and both barges? He could bring all his Armsmen with him -?"

Padma and Aral sized each other up. Breaking in to a confrontation between Ezar and Piotr was far above their pay grade - or existence.

"Well, if Piotr is here, either the fireworks didn't start, or we'll have a front row seat for the start of the revolution. Either way, we'll be dragged into it, so..." Padma wasn't enthusiastic about the possibilities.

Aral had a faraway look; "Better to be there, than be chased down. If it's a fight - front row's the place to be." Aral looked at Padma. "Another front row seat when history being made."

"Like I want that again... I'm to big for you to drag me out..."

The two cut thru the parking lot to the entrance gate.


	11. Duck, cover, pour another drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padma and Aral enter the ring.

Passing thru security at the Residence was the usual confusion; both Padma and Aral were on the unconditional entry list. The only delay was at the main checkpoint; to Padma's eyes there were several new faces. The new staff took thing slowly; usually Padma could skip thru with a vague wave of his ID card set; he was a well-used courier from Impmil to the Residence.

Today, the new staff did everything by the book; slow, careful, boring. When all the checks were done, the senior staffer, Pym, apologized; "For the next two week we're rotating people from everywhere; it's clogging everything except the plumbing."

"Cross training, it's the modern thing to do."

"On the Vorkraft, I rotated the engineers and the cooks."

"For a day."

Pym and Padma blinked at the thought. Pym waved them through; shaking his head.

=======================

Emperor Ezar's secretary was waiting for Padma and Aral; "The Emperor will be notified of your arrival, but don't get your hopes up. He's refused to see anyone since General Piotr stormed in this morning - the schedule is a wreck. You can see the line of visitors -" Lowering his voice "Two ambassadors, a General, an Admiral, three Counts, and lots of ministers. Nothing's getting done - If you get in, try to pry them apart, so life can go on!"

"Announce us as having Family business." suggested Aral. "The two of us, on family business, should work... Ezar and my father both will want to know what we're here to tell."

The secretary shrugged his shoulders, and sent the message. His day was already ruined; probably this week.

======================

Ezar and Piotr were finished with the small bottle of maple Mead that had been brought; both had a pleasant glow from the brew; Ezar was happy to be missing all the dull, ordinary grind-work that flooded his desk. He considered, on annoying days, retreating to Yuri's method of clearing his calendar - gather all the supplicants in the forecourt, and have target practice.

That was now frowned on; especially by the Nexus governments.

Negri did report that some foreign potentates had admired Yuri's efficiency. Governance was never the fun the uninitiated thought it would be.

But today was quite nice. Tomorrow would be terrible, from the hangover, and the sour disposition of everyone being put off today. Tomorrow would be the same playlet again and again - "Squawk, squawk, squawk" from a visitor, then "NO!" and escort by armsman out of the room. 

The compad on his desk chirped; two more supplicants had arrived. Ezar looked over, "Ha! Your boy and his town clown cousin have arrived; should I let them in?"

"Why not; Aral must have a bug up his arse to separate from his brandy bottle, and Padma is always entertaining, especially since he married that Vorinnis gal. Maybe they brought a new bottle." Piotr was swaying a bit in his chair; two now empty bottle from the liquor chest in the room explained why.

Ezar shrugged; better to talk with family than listen to that bore from Beta again... He tapped a spot on the compad; "Admit Padma and Aral, send everyone else home. If they've got paperwork, keep it and brief me in the morning. Ezar out."

=============================

In the hallway; the appointment secretary motioned to Padma and Aral; sending them into the emperor's chambers. A portly man, in formal clothes, tried to follow; he was stopped by the guards before he got past the secretaries' desk. Padma could hear the protests by the man - ambassador from somewhere - as he and Aral passed thru the main doors into Ezar's quarters.

"Come in, you to rascals; come in and entertain us; did you bring a bottle?"


	12. Ring the bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padma and Aral in a tag team match against Ezar and Piotr.
> 
> Loser pours.

Aral is looking over his shoulder as he and Padma are ushered into Ezars' room. He sees a boiling mass of Diplomats and Ministers churning around the Secretary's desk, each demanding to be allowed in to see Ezar, the Secretary trying to maintain calm in the presence of the storm.

His thoughts are a storm, again; his reputation is soaring, his honor dust. Padma has given him a way to reconstitute himself; if Ezar doesn't put a price above his means.

Sixteen pieces of his word, Sixteen babies he swore would have a chance at life.

And the Seventeenth -

===================

Ezar glared, with some difficulty, at Padma and Aral. 

"Well, what are you two jokers in need of? A promotion, Padma? A case of better brandy for you, Aral?"

Padma answered, "No, Sire, not a promotion! I'd have to work if I was a Major; I like making coffee and shipping bog rolls off to the fleet. All nice and safe inside ImpMil. I'm here with some better news; Lady Alys, my wife, is pregnant." He had a foolish grin on his face when he finished; seeing a woman' smile somewhere in the air.

"What! Pregnant? So fast - come, boy; Boy or girl?" was Piotr's reply. "Is it twins? or just one?"

"The doctor wouldn't commit to possible twins, too early to know. But a boy, certainly. She seem to have caught last week... with the holiday, we had some time... "

Ezar slapped his hand on his leg; "Congratulations, boy! No, can't call you that now we know you fire effective shots - Well done, young man! When the sprog appears, may have to think about a promotion for you; a Captain's pay is a bit tight to raise a family on, especially in VBS."

Piotr raised his mostly empty glass; "Huzzah! Boy - Young man! Congratulations! To see the family tree expand - have a new one coming; that's a treat! If you and Alys need a place away from the city during her term, I'll be happy to host you at the Lake; if Falco doesn't land a place on you. He's been grouching about not having an entry in the current 'Grandfather' pool;" He looked daggers at Aral; "So he must have been ecstatic." Piotr raised his glass again.

Padma gasped a moment; "Sire - Count - Thank you for your offers, but until the little one is on the ground, I don't want to accept anything special. I've got the estate Xav left for me invested; and Alys's dowry, so I don't think I'll be hurting; I've got a beach house down in Vandeville; from my mother. Alys likes the place, I'd think we'll be escaping down there when we can. Let's wait for little Ivan to be here and crawling before anyone gets too enthusiastic!

Please, don't celebrate to early, Sire; Even with galactic medicine, a baby's not guaranteed until it arrives..."

"You've got good blood; when Xav got married to your grandmother the Betans did a gene scan on him; and made sure he didn't have anything nasty hiding inside. The family didn't advertise that; it was too soon after the rediscovery for that to be understood. When your pup is ready, I expect being checked and cleaned will be expected - if not demanded. Lady Alys's family had bred true for a dozen generations, so your pup will be fine, certainly." Ezar looked magisterial in his words; as if he could force good heath on Alys thru imperial decree.

"Well, we hope - and your mention of galactic tech is part of what drug Aral out of his brandy bottle." Padma turned an looked at Aral.

"Ah - Sire - Ezar; it's from something that happened in the last days before I left Sergyar. The Escobarans sent a few pallets of what they called 'Uterine Replicators' - artificial wombs, filled with the results of our men - involvements with Escobaran and Betan women. Instead of aborting the results, they transferred them into the machines, and sent them to us - me - on Sergyar. I gave my word they'd be looked after; and -"

Ezar broke in."And now you want to see what's happened to them? Try to salvage a fragment of your honor, keep your word as Vorkosigan?"

"Yessir. I gave my word, what little of it remained. Padma reminded me they existed; Some might have been; " Aral's face contorted as he searched for a proper word "_delivered_ by now; they should go to the Imperial Orphanage, and be adopted. I have a word-worth for them; I'd like your permission to inquire at Impmed."

Piotr had been listening quietly during Arals' words. "They gave us all the byblows from our men? All of them?"

"So I recall. Seventeen, maybe more sent later. I sent that batch back home with our Fleet Surgeon, with orders and a warrant to create a section to see the infants to maturity. It's been eight months, most of them should be ready, I expect."

Piotr looked at Ezar with raised eyebrows; seeing something to permit him to advance. "That new Armsman of mine, Bothari - He was a tool of Ges and Serg; I know the sort of games they played with women; rape was the least. One of those kids could be his - and that makes it my duty. I read the reports on what he did, when he was with those two rotters; read it and tossed my lunch. He's sworn to me, and in reverse; so I've got a duty to him... Let Aral do his asking, then I'll decide how to tell the man the news."

Aral looked conflicted - and relieved. He hadn't expected his father to make a claim; but it supported his turmoil. "Ges pulled other Vor into his games; there may be other offspring that are due responsibility. How we'll track the fathers down - I don't know how that'd be done, but the geneticists can tell. I don't want to be the project leader, but to inquire and report - "

"Willing to accept a commission now, to save your word? Come to beg and plead after the roar you made when you tossed your pins in my face? You abandoned your responsibility to me - to everything - when you resigned; why shouldn't I hand this to Padma, here? He's kept his oath; or your Father; he's got a duty to his man; but you? You pissed on everything when you left."

Ezar's rage was obvious; Aral stood still after the words were spoken. "I gave my honor to you to do your dirty little project, I tolerated all that Ges Vorrutyer shoved on me, smiled and agreed at the idiocy and vanity of Serg; you burned me to ash, because you wanted your son to have a 'hero's' death, then off to whatever hell he's in with ten thousand honest, loyal soldiers and shipmen. All from you not allowing Negri to manufacture a flyer accident, or have a woman stick a knife in him at an orgy. 

I did what you asked, did it three bags full. Now, I'm asking to honor my word, salvaging a fragment of what's remaining from all the crap your plan created.

Those babies are real, they're ours, they're your responsibility - they're questions you'll face in the Council; ones you can't dodge. Seventeen questions for your successor, whoever that is...."

Aral had stood, eyes closed, still , rigid. The air between Ezar and Aral was compressed; heated by the pressure of two opposing wills. The wine dregs in the glasses nearby seemed to evaporate from the heat; Piotr and Padma were trapped in the tension.

Ezar leaned forward, eyes intent of Aral; "You, talking about duty!" He was interrupted by the urgent beeping of his chair. "Oh, blast! Pulled another line loose; oh, frack!. He pressed a button on the chair arm; "Nathan, send in the medics, their toy's annoyed. Keep everyone else out. " The response as muffled; "Yes-sir, they're here now. "

Ezar leaned back in the chair; with a grimace. "Damn chair and it's medical magic. Start to have fun, it screams. Yes, Aral, go look at the baby bottles, report back to me. See if one of them is your man Bothari's blowby, tell your father. I don't want to know if any of them are Vorspawn; that'd stir up the council, and make life harder. Go, shoo!" he said, dismissing his visitors. The medics had begun to enter the room, they stepped aside to allow the three of them to leave. Padma's last sight of the Emperor was his chair laid flat as the medics pointed and jabbered their incomprehensible words among themselves. Ezar looked disgusted, yet Padma seemed to see some relief in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ivan really takes after his father, doesn't he?
> 
> (But the fleet NEEDS Bog Rolls, mops and brooms! - heard from off stage.)


	13. Cork the bottle, smash the mugs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on, with hangovers.

Piotr shepherded Aral and Padma off to the side in the antechamber. Zai and Danil, his two senior Armsman, winged in on the Count as he claimed a corner of the room. The other Armsmen formed a partial circle to keep the press of the crowd away. Piotr spoke.

Piotr stabbed his finger at Aral's chest. "You wanted your honor back, now you've got it. You wanted him to apologize, he has. Whatever fight you had with Ezar is over, you won. So get off your thumb, pull it out of your arse, and get ready to be regent. If you're still fooling yourself, you're it - or you're stuck being behind Padma, pushing for all your worth. The whole of the Empire is ready to land on someone, and you'll be helping that poor sod with the worst job around.

So, get off your arse, get sober, and get ready to push! Got me, boy!" Piotr spiced his words with a half-dozen stabs with his finger onto Aral's chest; Aral stepped back a half step in reaction.

"Yes, father, you've made your point. It's me, or Padma, as regent, unless I can name someone better. I'll damn the man for his acts, but," -Aral shrugged - "whoever gets it, I'll support him. "

"Good," said Piotr, "I swore to Ezar back at Green Army base that I'd support him thru thick and thin, same as Pierre did to Dorca, way back when, if he'd take the job as Emperor - for me and my kin. Now, it's your turn, for Gregor. You protect his back, and he knows you won't make a play for the camp stool. That's the deal; always loyal, so we're safe from knives in our backs."

Piotr turned to Padma. "The same deal goes for you, and your boy. So you get ready to push the regent, cover his back, until Gregor comes of age. That's what Xav and I promised, that bloody night, so you're bound by it, blood and soul. Kings get killed, but not kingmakers."

"We've got our orders from Ezar; so let's get moving before he remembers to change his mind. Padma, you're under General Millbrown, correct?"

Padma nodded yes. The room was filled with noise and voices, it was hard to hear.

"Good; I'll call him and have you detached to me for a few weeks. Then, I'll call Admiral Vorparish, at ImpMed, and get you and Aral cleared for the Baby Can project. I'll also call General Vorphelps at Veterans Services, to open the way to the Orphanage. You and Aral will be at ImpMed at 0900 to storm the place. Got that?"

Aral and Padma nodded agreement.

"Danil, you're detached to Padma for the next few weeks, he'll need someone at his shoulder for this. Aral, you can have Bothari, if you need him. Don't mention anything to him; that's mine to do."

Zai started to speak, then ceased. It was obvious his curiosity was raised, but when the General wanted to tell him...

"Zai, send the other men to the Manse, we'll be staying in town for a week. Aral'll be needing better clothes, so get my man onto it. I have to brief the Majordomo on a press release; so stay with me. Padma, you and Aral disappear. You don't know what happened, you weren't close to the Residence - got that? Now scoot. My best to Alys."

Aral and Padma sketched bows to Piotr, and slid into the crowd. Zai gathered the Armsmen, gave them orders; half slid thru the crowd and out of the building, the rest stayed as a perimeter around the General. As Padma left the room, he could see Piotr gathered with two of the Emperor's secretaries, composing official messages on the day's interruptions, and the Medic visits. He found Aral in the outer courtyard, ignoring the attentions of two reporters; both certain that Aral had the scoop of the week ready for them.

Padma, with Danil, loomed and pushed the scribes away and into the general melee. The escaped into the vehicle lot; finding Padma's red flyer easily. Padma noted that one of the Vorkosigan aircars was already gone, taken by the departing Armsmen.

Aral stood for a while next to Padma's flyer; his face taut. Danil stood next to the rear door, ready to get in; Padma dropped into the pilot's seat, starting the preflight. He leaned to the right, shouting to Aral. "Hey, cuz, get it. We've got zero minutes left here, remember?"

Aral slid slowly into the seat. "I'm not sure who won, or if I lost, in there. Can't go back, but can I go forward... Padma, I'm not sure..."

Padma looked at Aral with disgust. "You won, you blithering idiot. Ezar folded, his hand's busted. You got your honor back, whatever that is, and we can celebrate."

"There's winning, and then there's not losing... did I win? I still feel like I lost - lost the bigger game."

"Oh, come off it, Aral; Press your reset button and get over it. You want me to do it?"

"Do what? What reset button?"

"The reset button for your -Honor-." Padma used an affected voicing for the word. "Grandda Xav showed it to me, once. It's right - there-" shoving his finger into Aral's navel. "Now, it's reset, let's get a drink."

"YOU --!"

Danil sat back and smiled.

===========================

Special Press Notice.

For immediate release.

From Emperor Ezar Vorbarra  
The Residence  
Vorbarr Sultana, Barrayar

Ezar 30, Aprmay 13.

Emperor Ezar Vorbarra is pleased to announce the anticipated arrival of a Grand-nephew, the son of Captain Lord Padma Xav Vorpatril and Lady Alys Vorinnis Vorpatril. The child is expected in nine months.

Best wishes and felicitations are pronounced for the couple.

The child, expected to be named Lord Ivan Xav Vorpatril, is the first Grand-nephew to be born, adding a member to the Emperor's family.

Captain Lord Padma Xav Vorpatril is the grandson of Prince Xav Vorbarra, acknowledged son of Emperor Dorca Vorbarra. He is currently assigned to Administration and Supply within Logistics Operations Branch.

Lady Alys Vorinnis Vorpatril is the third daughter of Count Henri Vorinnis. She was debutante of the season at Ezar 27 Winterfair ball. The couple married during Summerfair last year.

Best wishes and greetings may be sent to The Residence for forwarding to the happy couple.

Inquiries to the Press Office, The Residence, Vorbarr Sultana.

========================

Two weeks later, Captain Cordelia Naismith was passed thru immigration and customs at Barrayar High Station.

Captain Vorpatril was assigned to the Imperial Military orphanage, in charge of adoption placement. He served there for six months; then was transferred to the staff of General Vorsujan, Weapons procurement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Jane Hotchkiss for her assistance in improving this work.


End file.
